Isolation
by TheSilentPen
Summary: "The memory of Anna lying motionless in your arms, blazing red hair scarred white and freezing against your palms haunted every waking moment." Everything you'd ever done, you'd done to protect your sister... To protect Anna. (Pre-movie, Non-incest).


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Disney, Frozen, or any of its characters.

**A/N: **Hello, name's TheSilentPen. I wrote this story over the course of a couple days. It's a bit of a character study. What's going on behind the door between the 'accident' and the start of the movie. We didn't get to see much of that from Elsa's perspective, so I thought it'd be interesting to write it.

On a side note to my usual readers: sorry I haven't been updating, but the truth is that I'm VERY busy. I wish I could say more stories are coming, but the unfortunate truth is I can't promise anything. Between the unexpected demise of my laptop and real world events, I have little to NO time to write. I'm truly sorry my stories have stalled, but there is nothing I can do to magically make myself more available to sit and write.

I hope you enjoy this short little snippet. Feel free to leave a comment at the end. It'd be much appreciated.

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**Isolation**

TheSilentPen

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The first time she knocked was the worst.

You sat in your room two days after 'the incident,' staring down at your bare hands and regarding them as criminals.

Your fists clenched and the frost crept across the palm of your hand like a plague. The iron taste of blood oozed across your tongue. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Two days wasted trying to contain the curse. Two days spent in vain.

Two sleepless nights and a helpless morning curling your fingers, holding the chill inside and letting it build till it threatened to destroy you.

In the past, the ice had been an intangible presence. Something lingering in the corners of your soul, tethered by nameless warmth and subject to your desire.

It could be bent, shaped into anything. Limited only by the vast, untapped reservoirs of your imagination.

You loved seeing it sparkle between your fingers and light the room with its radiance. Loved playing with it until it fell in gentle blankets across stone castle floors.

Most of all, you adored the joy it brought to Anna. The look of awe splayed across her features, lighting up her eyes and curling about the soft edges of her lips.

The curse had once been a cherished gift. A blessing.

But that terrible accident changed everything.

The tether was gone. Ripped apart as you watched Anna fall to the ground like a broken marionette. Her strings-her spirit-snapped to pieces by this beast hidden deep in your soul.

The memory of Anna lying in your arms, blazing red hair scarred white and freezing against your palms haunted every waking moment.

She'd been so still, so lifeless. Her face blank and skin pale as a corpse.

That moment became the new anchor, the new chain about your neck. One you wore willingly, even as it cut into your flesh and kept you from reaching out to that singular light in your life-your only friend.

But better to let the chains cut, bring you pain, than to douse out that brilliant light with this hideous curse.

That didn't mean it didn't pain you. That the chains didn't gouge your skin down to the very bone as you pulled against them.

"Elsa?"

_ 'I'm here, Anna.'_

"Do you want to build a snowman?"

_ 'Go, I don't want to hurt you!'_

"I never see you anymore... Come out the door, it's like you've gone away."

You heard her pause, fingernails scratching lines across the door's face.

"We used to be best buddies... And now we're not. I wish you would tell me why."

_ 'Just go, Anna.'_ The chains cut into your neck as you extend a longing hand toward the door, trembling and flinching as the frost crawls across your fingertips.  
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" Her words came out in an excited rush. "It doesn't have to be a snowman."

You clenched your arms about yourself, leaning forward as though injured. The ice crept into existence about you forming translucent daggers.

The memory of Anna lying motionless again flashed across your vision. You closed your eyes, tears burning hot trails down your cheeks.

"Go away, Anna!" Your voice was a culmination of swirling, conflicted emotions erupting in a choked, half-hearted plea.

There was a pause, a thoughtful silence. Your heart froze in your chest and your fingers dug further into your arms, digging bloody crescents.

"…Okay, bye."

It broke your heart to hear Anna's voice break, her childish excitement waning. You imagined her shoulders drooping in disappointment and the quiver of her lip as she processed her older sister's rejection.

You _hated_ to cause her such pain.

Anna had been your _best_ friend, your _only _friend.

Staying away wounded her, alienated her.

…But staying away would keep her safe. Make sure that _awful_ day would never repeat itself.

So you laid down on your side, facing away from that cursed door, and cried until you fell asleep.

Over the next several years, you learn to hold the sadness within.

The gloves act as a muzzle, a shield to protect those that enter and exit your room throughout the day.

When your father first presented them to you, you'd hated them. The ice would bunch between your fingers and stick to the inside of the material. It became difficult to grasp items when a thick layer of frost held your hands in place.

You attempted to go an entire day without them once.

At first, the curse kept still. It steamed at your fingertips, flared threateningly, but remained contained. You stood in the center of your room and smiled tremblingly.

Maybe the curse _could_ be controlled.

Two minutes later, Gerda entered the room to change linens. She hadn't meant to startle you.

The ice flared forth from your hands and painted the walls white. Gerda's feet were frozen to the floor, her hands to the bed linens clasped in her arms.

You spent the rest of the day huddled in the corner of the room, shaking off your parents' concerned attentions, yelling at them as they tried to take you in their arms.

After that day, you never took the gloves off again.

The years seemed to pass by _so_ quickly.

You passed the days standing in the window, staring out into the garden. You watched Anna play each day, watched her grow and change.

Your sister seemed never to lose her endless optimism. She dragged Kai about the garden, eager to build mud castles, catch frogs, or simply lie in the sun with a wide smile on her face.

Every so often, Anna's gaze leveled with your window and the smile ran away from her face. Her shoulders dropped, her hands came together and fidgeted, and her eyes dimmed with hurt.

At the end of each day, she'd press her hand against the door in that same knocking pattern and sheepishly ask the same question:

"Do you want to build a snowman…?"

Silence would follow for a few moments before Anna began recounting her day in a low whisper. She'd tell you how much she'd like you to meet her friend Joan, how the days grew longer and shorter, and about the newest blend of Cook's delectable chocolates.

After finishing her summary, a hopeful silence followed until Anna finally gave up and the sound of footsteps faded into the echoing body of the castle.

It hurt you to _hurt_ Anna. It pained you so much that it felt as though the curse spread. That it had frozen over _everything_ in its path, digging its poisonous spikes into your heart and numbed out your pain.

You felt _nothing_.

_Nothing_ except the crippling anxiety of hurting someone _again_. The _fear_ as the power grew with each passing year.

By the time you turned eighteen, you'd given up any hope of controlling the curse.

This isolated, numb world would be your existence until the day you died.

Only then would you truly be free.

Little moments of rebellion surface in your mind at times.

Why did you need to remain locked away? Why _not_ take off the gloves? Why not step outside the room and _face_ the world?

You stride over to the door, place a hand on the knob and harden your resolve.

…Until the memory of _that_ night rises again in your mind, forever on loop.

Anna, lying there.

Anna, silent.

Anna, hurt.

…_Anna, dead_.

Your hand always pauses at that. Always stops you from turning the brass and stepping out into the hall.

Because what if Anna is there? What if you can't control it?

_What if you kill her?_

Your hand falls to your side and clenches as you grit your teeth and tears stream down your cheeks.

This world was meant for angels such as Anna. For the kind, warmhearted, good Samaritan. For those who could help, not harm. For those that could hold hands without fear of harm, could touch without freezing.

Not for one that'd ruined the only _good_ thing in her life. That could destroy with one quiver of a finger or turn the skies white with death.

…This world was never meant for a monster like you.

But you can do something right, for once. You can give your sister a gift to make up for the years of your absence. Make up for that singular night with this one present.

Her life… her safety.

_Everyone's_ safety.

That's all that's ever really mattered.


End file.
